As soon as the doors slid open, Simon stepped out of the monorail car and into the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of daily commuters on the platform. He ducked his head and pushed his way forward to keep the crowd from sweeping him back into the monorail car. He glanced over the milling throngs toward the main exit and spotted two constables searching the crowd. A whistle shrilled to his right. He looked over to see another constable at the side exit pointing at him and yelling. He ducked and surged through the crowd toward the constable who just blew the whistle. He stood a better chance of getting past one constable instead of two. He fought his way through the crowd in a half crouch as he angled to the left and overshot the exit by a few feet. He peeked through the moving bodies to see if the constable had tracked his movements. He smiled to himself as he stared at the back of the constable’s head. If this was the best security the capital city of Voltaire could offer, his mission would be easier than he had expected. He stepped out of the crowd and quickly approached the constable from behind. He was about to slip past him and out the exit when the constable spun around and jabbed an electric prod into his chest. Arcs of electrical current sparked all around his body. If it were not for the steel mesh installed in the lining of his clothing, he would have fallen unconscious at the feet of the constable. He yanked the prod out of the surprised constable’s hands and brought it down on his head with a loud crack. A woman screamed and the crowd surged away from the exit in a panic; leaving him standing over the body of an unconscious constable with an enforcement prod in his hand. The two other constables on the monorail platform locked eyes with him and yelled for him to stop. He did exactly the opposite. He dropped the electric prod and bolted through the exit, only to collide with another constable coming into the monorail station. Simon tackled him to the ground and twisted his arm until he heard the shoulder pop out of alignment and the constable roar in pain. He was back on his feet and running down the street in a matter of seconds. He already had a very small window of opportunity to pass his package to the people waiting for it, but that window shrank the longer the local constabulary actively pursued him. He had to find a way to get them off his tail. And he had to do it quickly. The searing hot ball of lead pierced his skin at the exact moment he heard the echo of the pistol. The impact of the bullet spun him off-balance and he tried his best to keep his feet under him as he ran. But his body was already going into shock and his legs failed him. He hit the slick cobblestone pavement and slid several feet to a stop. Lying face down in the mud that seeped up between the cobblestones, he rolled his head to the side and looked up the street. Several constables approached slowly, pointing their pistols at him as he lay still on the ground. Helpless. No. Not helpless. His original mission was but a distant memory, but he could still make a difference. The bullet in his shoulder burned fiercely as he fumbled the package out of his pocket and extracted the syringe from the small copper box. He ignored the commands from the constables to drop whatever he had in his hands as he plunged the needle deep into a vein. He smiled up at them as he squeezed down on the plunger with his thumb. The constables rushed him and swatted the needle out of his arm, but not before he injected the contents into his bloodstream. He fought back as they wrestled him on to his stomach and handcuffed his hands behind his back. As they roughly lifted him off the ground by his arms, he felt his nose start to run. One of the constables flinched and turned away. “Someone get me a towel. I don’t want this miscreant’s bloody nose to spoil my uniform.”